Clockwork Heart

by Lyra Ayres
“Boy! Clean up this rotten mess and close the blasted shop. I don’t pay you to play with toys,” roared Mr. Rochfort.
“Yes, right away Mr Rochfort,” sighed Anson as he pushed his spectacles up his nose. Without another word, his employer slammed the shop door, making the bells shake in fear.
Brushing off Mr. Rochfort’s vehement demands, Anson returned to his workstation to tinker with the necklace he’d been previously focusing on. His latest creation, and, in his mind, his best, was a neatly crafted heart on a silver chain. Black stones stalked the outer edge of the pendant and a multitude of tiny bronze gears ticked under a glass plate. Locking the final catch, Anson gently clicked the glass plate in place with a pair of miniature pliers.
Before he could properly admire his work the door startled him as the bells tingled, signaling a new customer. Anson eased immediately as he saw it was only Esther Glasby, a faithful customer and charming company in the little gift shop.
“Hello Anson,” her sweet voice twittered, filling the small room.
“Evening, Miss. You don’t think you’re out late tonight do you?” he asked.
“I’ve come here to search for a gift on late notice.”
“Well you and I both know you’ve come to the right place,” he said cheerfully, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose once more.
Jumping up from the work table he gently lead her to one of the shelves.
“Would your friend be interested in some of our intricate pocket watches?” he asked. “Or perhaps something more whimsical like one of our famous clockwork critters?” he offered, taking a beautifully decorated mechanical ladybug out of a small box. It pitter-pattered across the wooden surface and Esther placed a palm over it to make it stop.
“I’m interested in a gift for a friend I’ve secretly admired for a long time,” she said quietly. Oblivious, Anson rushed to the back of the shop.
“So it’s a romantic gift then,” he called from the depths of the store room, returning with a thick, heavy chest.
“We have plenty of tasteful colognes and cigars imported from the East if that’s the sort of man you’re courting,” he smiled, trying to be as much help as possible. He lifted the lid and revealed rows of bottled scents and tobacco neatly packaged. The odors wafted out of the chest and filled Esther’s nostrils with unknown memories of a far off land.
Once again she laid her delicate fingers down and closed the chest.
“Anson, you’re so foolish sometimes. The man I admire is you.”
Shocked, Anson placed the chest on a nearby display cabinet but the feeling of a huge weight pressing him down didn’t leave.
“I… Now Miss. Glasby, I’m not supposed to fraternize with customers. Mr. Rochfort would have me strung up by my tongue!” He exclaimed, flustered. Rushing through packing tools and treasures away Anson continued to ramble on, “I know we are quite good conversationalists together, but I, well you’re a… and I’m just a common man, please I have to close shop now, so if you’re not going to make a purchase I suggest you-“
Before he could finish the last sentence Esther grabbed his shoulder and whipped him around to face her. For the first time he looked into her eyes, hazel with a bronze glow glinting in the light of the lamps. Before he could insist she leaves once more she snatched his spectacles and let them fly across the room.
“Let me see those green eyes you have hidden behind those silly spectacles,” she whispered, and pushed him up against the wall. She grabbed his shaking hands and held them to her breasts.
“Unthread my corset for me, Anson,” she whispered in velvety undertones. Without any objection to temptation Anson couldn’t help but do what her eyes told him to. He turned her around, peeled back her intricate layers of satin black hair and undid the elegant corset. It had red material as silky as her hair and as bright as her eyes. When the last string fell away, the outfit sagged, revealing her slender back arching downward to a curved waist. Without being asked, she turned around presenting her bosoms, rounded and pale like hidden treasures. He held her closely, feeling her breasts on his chest. Their lips touched and they became almost part of the wall.
Without any indication, she curved her body and swept everything off the worktable. Gears and chains leapt through the air like bizarre metallic creatures taking flight. Before Anson could panic about the glass smashing on the floor, or the trouble he would be in when Mr. Rochfort saw the mess, or even the fact he couldn’t see anything more than 6 feet away, little Esther Glasby threw him down on the table he had been sitting at only a few minutes before she had come to change everything he thought he knew about her.
Lying on top of him, it was her turn to undress Anson. She tore at his vest with ease and slowly undid each button with nothing but her mouth. Getting lower and lower to his waist, Anson’s cock pressed into her abdomen and she smiled.
Undoing the last button, she finally took in an eyeful of his bare chest: his skinny arms and shy voice disguised his becoming abdominals. With anticipation her fingers tickled his skin as she undid the studs on his pants; with the undergarments pulled down, finally everything was revealed.
The moment took on a carefree nature as she retreated back to meet his face like a red-laced butterfly flittering in the dark. Their lips met once more and without hesitation he let himself thrust within her. All his boyish charms dissolved and were replaced by a desire buried deep within formalities and conformities. But that was gone now; there was nothing but his cock, her vagina and all the clocks and jewelry twinkling above them.
Now he took the lead, like a true gentleman, and held her fabric draped bottom in his hands. Pushing her, he felt himself exploring the pleasures of her most sacred orifice. Layers and layers of satin clumped around him until finally, in frustration, he pulled the entire mass of the dress over his head. Now inside a red dome he could see her milk white legs flexing on the table. His hands found their way to her hips and he felt the bones prodding his palms.
They continued to surge back and forth, back and forth until the momentum of their love threw them off the table and onto the floor. She screamed out loud as they tumbled across the ground.
“Yes, yes, Anson, keep on… keep on going,” Esther called from outside of the dress. Anson responded by licking her stomach slowly to the nape of her neck until his head peered out of the billowing satin cage. She laughed and kicked her feet in the air rolling over once more, glass crackled underneath them.
Without pausing, Anson wormed his way out of the dress and sleekly pulled the entire dress down to her ankles. With a flick of the feet, she let the gown catch on a nearby shelf, hanging haphazardly above them. Anson flipped her onto her stomach and begin to hump her like an equestrian. Soon they became twisted together like some unrecognizable human form of love. She breathed heavily as he whispered sweet nonsense in her ear.
After what felt like an eternity they laid naked on the floor of the gift shop. Panting Anson rolled into Esther and let her tongue slide into his ear. He wriggled with glee and let his hand cusp her breast. Delicately circling her hard nipple with his fingers.
Moments passed, and they were calm in the silence but Esther knew she had to leave. Slowly she stood, and reached out for her garments. Anson still felt electrified and glanced up between her legs as she stretched to pull the dress from its place. Stepping into it like a cat caught in the moonlight she spoke to him for the first time since they consummated their hidden love for each other.
“Please, could you fix my dress for me?” she said, in the most polite voice. She seemed like an entirely different person than the howling temptress Anson had just fucked moments ago. Nonetheless, he nodded and slowly laced up the corset, fluffing the layers of the gown so it looked just as she had entered hours ago. Esther tidied her hair with her fingers, and when she felt that she appeared proper once more, she began to head for the door.
“Wait!” Anson said finally awaking from his strange, silent trance. She looked back with a questioning expression on her face.
“Before you leave, I, I think I want to give you something,” he mumbled as he retrieved his glasses from the floor. Propping them back on his face he scurried around the room, eyeing the floor. He bent down and retrieved something lying in the corner amongst the chains and other small trinkets Esther had thrown to the floor earlier.
“You came into the store looking for a gift for someone you admire? Well thank you, you gave me a wonderful gift. But now I want to give you one,” Anson said kindly, pushing the heart necklace into her hand. She held it up and immediately glowed as she eyed the fine details of the stones lodged around the faint ticking of the little heart. Without hesitating she lifted the chain around her neck and clasped it in place.
“Thank you,” she replied and leant into one more kiss.
Her soft lips felt so warm and alive on Anson’s. She pushed her breasts as close to his neck as she could. Their tongues locked and Anson felt her pull away.
“I really must go now,” she said sadly. She opened the door and the bells above chimed a solemn farewell.
“Tomorrow,” Anson mouthed with a cheeky grin. She let him spy one last smile then the door shut. All the Mr. Rochforts’ in the world couldn’t ruin this moment for him.

4 thoughts on “Clockwork Heart”

We’re generally, from an editorial point of view, not interested in viewing steampunk as something that only relates to gadgetry or goggles. Instead, we see steampunk as an aesthetic consideration, an atmosphere.